


To Be The Reaper of Time

by HomicideAndGlitter (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angel of Darkness! Karkat Vantas, Angels of darkness, Au-Grim reapers, Cupid! Nepeta, Dave is 24, Dave is just a dead guy, Death, Derse and Prospit are just cities, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Gay, Homestuck AU, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lol the Yound Disciple is what they call Nepeta xD, Love, M/M, Mental Anguish, Nepeta is the official match maker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Paranomal, Reapers, Romance, The Disciple is the ancestor of the Young Desciple, There may or may not be some LIGHT smut between the main characters, Violence, davekat - Freeform, karkat is like sixteen, lol jk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:25:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/HomicideAndGlitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave finds himself wallowing in misery at the foot of his brother's grave, when a pale man in an equally pale suit pulls a gun on him. Dave is dead, bro is dead, and everything is hopeless. That is, until Karkat finds Dave's spirit wondering aimlessly around his grave plot. Karkat takes him to the Realm of Reapers, where Dave was expected by the Omnipotent One was expecting him. Dave is to become a reaper of time, and collect souls. He is to be partnered with the annoyed and begrudging Angel of Blood, Karkat Vantas himself. Can Dave manage his new job? Will he be able to handle the life after death, and what about his promised reward for death; His Brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Be Dave==>

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stridercestandapplejuice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stridercestandapplejuice/gifts).



> //Hi guys, Homicide here with a new fic. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it! On to the story, now!! =]]

**Be Dave Strider== >**

 

            Your name is Dave Strider, and you sit at the foot of your older brother’s grave. The funeral service has long since passed-three years ago to be exact. But even so, the death march, the awakening, the hearse, your brother’s cold, stiff body…it all feels like it happened yesterday. But it didn’t, it happened three years ago, and today is His Death Day. That is the reason why you sit with your back against the smooth grey marble, shivering as ugly fluffs of snow fall from the bleak black clouds above you and stick to your clothes and shades. Your limbs have gone numb and your fingers are pink. Tears have frozen to the corners of your eyes and your raw cheeks, and your teeth chatter endlessly. You suddenly miss your home town in Texas, you miss the heat, you miss the sun, and you miss your brother. But missing everything positive won’t do anything any justice, thinking about it will only push you further into negativity, and then depression, and you don’t need Jade Harley asking where all of those fresh cuts came from.

            The snow is falling heavier, at least two inches of the white yuck has you solidified to the grave plot, but you are not compelled to get up. You close your eyes and think of what your bro would say if he were here. He would probably complain about the snow as well, and then the two of you would have your first-time-ever snow fight. He would ask how you were doing, and you would tell him about college and all of the gigs you had gotten. You would tell him that you are an aspiring movie director and that by going to college, you are reaching your goals. He would ask what kind of music you played at all of the clubs and you would say that you played a little bit of everything, and he would probably smile and run a hand through your hair. No, he would definitely smile and mess up your hair, and you would yell at him to not fuck up your masterpiece.

            And then, you would hug him and tell him how much you have missed him. And even though you’re an adult now, you would tell him how much you miss his parent-like worries that you would never have a future, miss the breakfasts he used to make on Saturday mornings. You would explain to him how much you miss his hugs and his laugh, how much you have missed the horrible bed time stories he would make up.; he had a shitty imagination, so you would have to fill in the blank spaces. As you cry now, you imagine your brother grinning smugly at you and calling you a cry baby, but he would just hug you tighter and whisper something like ‘Hey, little man. Everything will be okay.’ And you would accept what he said.

  “Hey, little man. Are you okay?” Your eyes fly open and your spirits were falsely lifted. The voice didn’t come from your older brother, but an old man in a green and white suit. His hair is as pale as the snow, and despite the concern dripping from his tone, he has a knowing smirk curving his abnormally round cheeks. You just lean against the stone again and nod once. The man smiles and adjusts his white coat but you pay him no mind. You liked it better when you were alone with bro, and this man decided to come by and pervert your memories.

  “You miss your brother, hmm?” The man asks, and he actually shakes off his coat and throws it at you. You stare at him with disbelief.

  “What? How did you-?”

  “I know many things, Dave,” The man replies, and he gives you a willowy smile.

  “What? That is just creepy. Could you just-can you leave me alone, man? I am trying to wallow in misery and your smug ass isn’t helping at all,” You grumble, but you do not lift the coat off and give it back to him. You body is craving heat because you stupidly came to the cemetery without proper winter wear. The man doesn’t look upset at your hostility; he just smiles that creepy smile and shoves his hand in his pant pockets.

  “Would you like some candy? I am afraid I only have liquorish.”

  “Oh my God, okay. Look, dude, I get you are just being nice or whatever, but I am sort of in pain and I would like to be in pain alone, okay, thanks. Also, don’t give kids you don’t know candy; it looks really perverse on your part,” You snap, and hold the coat closer to you, tucking your knees to your chest. The man pouts and tucks the candy back into his pocket.

  “Twenty-two years of age can hardly be the age of a child, Dave.”

  “Oh my fucking god, who the hell are you?”

  “How badly do you want to see your brother?” The man asks, avoiding your question. Your heart feels like a void has been opened and it sucks all of your positive emotions into it. Your eyes water and you stand up with a growl. The jacket falls to your feet and disturbs the freshly fallen snow.

  “You bastard, get away from me,” You snap, tears falling shamelessly down your cheeks. Who does this sick asshole think he is? Finding random, depressed people and just molesting their pain like this?

  “You want to see your brother very badly, and it really tears you apart. I will make the decision for you to save time. Say good bye to earth, Dave,” The man says gleefully, and pulls a fucking gun from the green holster you failed to notice.

  “Oh my God, please don’t. I will give you money! Here, take my wallet-!” The gun shot is surprisingly quiet, and the pain doesn’t last long.

So this is what it’s like to die.

 

**Just be the reader: Later== >**

            Dave Strider was found next to his brother’s grave, a pistol in his hand, a bullet between his eyes. Blood had splattered on the snow like a gruesome painting, and the young man had a soft smile frozen on his cheeks. Detectives suspect suicide, friends believe he was murdered, even though they knew how sad he was, knew that the finger prints on the gun matched the ones on his stone cold hands. His clothes were clean aside from some of the mud from the grave plot he was sitting on, but his shades had been a bit splintered when the bullet had shot though them and his skull. Dave was a very miserable sight to behold.

            The awakening was like a raw wound, one that is festering with infection, you just want to itch at it, wish it would go away, clean itself up. Wish that the wound would just seal up and you could go on with your life, and the minimal amount of people that showed up sat in the pews and then outside when they buried him were not complaining, some not even crying. Dave wasn’t a very exceptional person; he wasn’t one to have many friends, especially after the death of his brother. needless to say, the Strider gene pool ended with Dave.

            And there was Dave’s body, in the casket. He was pale and he was in a bright red suit, and his eyes were glued shut behind his broken shades. People left flowers in the casket, some said a few kind or longing words. Jake English and Jade Harley both broke down in tears. Jade’s best friend is dead, and the one thing Dirk had asked Jake to care after? It was gone, and that just felt wrong. Everything was gone; Dave, Dirk, and soon, all of their possessions were sold and auctioned off. Their apartment remained empty and stayed that way for many years. There was Dave’s body.

_And then there was Dave._

            Dave sat solemnly in the back of the room, crying quietly. No one could see him, no one could hear him. He didn’t mind too much, he just followed the procession. He watched people give speeches about him, Heaven, and a god that clearly didn’t exist. He sat in the back of the hearse with his corpse on the way to the cemetery. He watched them lower the casket into the hole next to his brother’s grave, and he admired the tasteful headstone that matched his brother’s.

            Dave watched as people came by and threw one rose and one handful of dirt into the hole. He watched as some people took a fake flower from the flower wreath as some sick souvenir, and then he watched everyone leave when the grave digger filled the hole with more dirt. Dave Strider is dead, and now he is alone in neither Heaven nor Hell, but stuck on Earth with no friends, and most importantly, no brother.


	2. Dave: become "friends" with the Reaper of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is finally taken to a mini meeting in the Realm of Reapers, where he learns a few things. Honestly, the only thing he actually gotten from the little press conference was that he has been shipped with a teenager. Jesus fucking christ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //okaaaay...So, it took like three days to fucking write this, and yet it is still paced to quickly and quite choppy.I decided to throw in a little bit of information, but I mainly just wanted to introduce the DaveKat relationship asap. So yeah.   
> (spoiler: KK is secretly head over heels for the sexy twenty-four year old;] )

**Be Dave Strider == >**

      

            Your name is Dave Strider, and you have been dead for a week. Death is so very boring; at least it is for you. You have sat on the top of your head stone for the past few days, singing under your breath, wishing that someone would see you or something. Last night, a few teenagers came to the grave yard to play with Ouija boards. It was fun to fuck around with them, until they asked your name.  They almost couldn’t believe that you were the guy in the paper, the one who killed himself. You quit playing with them after that, crying woefully as you made your way back to your grave plot. You can’t believe everyone thinks you killed yourself!

            That was last night, and this is today, this morning, to be more precise. It is six o’clock, and don’t ask how you know that, because you aren’t too sure yourself. Unfortunately, you have a strange sensitivity to time, so this whole being alone thing for seven days has been truly agonizing. You are just waiting for the moment when God sends you to hell already, but since there is apparently no god, you aren’t going anywhere. You have never been religious or anything-well, your bro said that your parents were catholic before they died when you were little, but you don’t remember them and the religion was most certainly not carried on with you and Bro. Honestly, you are relieved, because you would be very disappointed that you would have lived a lie only to get dumped here in this stupid grave yard.

            But you being alone is this damn place was enough to fully convince you there was no god. God wouldn’t just leave you on this stupid planet, he would either send you to heaven or to hell, and that would be the end of his job. Oh look, here you are, all alone, still on Earth rather than heaven or hell. Pity. You lie down horizontally on your grave plot, the fresh dirt mound digging into your back as you scoot so your head was lying on the flat grassy dirt of your brother’s. You wonder where he is. You wonder if he left this place long ago. Honestly, you aren’t sure how he could have done that; you tried to leave the cemetery after they buried you, but you were just “zapped” back to your grave plot. Some unseen force tells you that you are tied to your body, and you assume that means that wherever your body goes, you go. You are contemplating on digging up your corpse when someone blocks the sun.

            A teenager stands at your head, looking down at you. But you assume he is just reading the tombstones, not actually your face. He looks unfamiliar, not a family friend or relative-he’s quite handsome in a boyish way, though-so he must be either a kid who is curious about your ‘suicide’, or just someone who likes to look at all the decorative tombstones in the grave yard. You stare up at him, wondering if he is ever gonna fucking move out of the way. It is even colder than the day you died, and you would like to have some fucking sunlight on your undead face.

  “Are you just gonna sit there or are you going to get the fuck up?” The boy snaps, and you jerk in surprise before bolting upright. You look around the relatively empty area and then point to yourself.

   “Yes, you, dumb fuck. Jesus Christ, is that all you do? Sit around all day?” The kid barks, and you scramble to your feet.

  “You can see me?” You ask incredulously. The boy slams both of his hands to his face and growls.

  “Of course I can see you, you nook whiff. Oh my god,” The boy groans, sliding his hands down his face. That is when you realize his eyes are red like yours, and he has short claws. You tilt your head, wondering if you were dreaming or something; which you shouldn’t be because the dead do not sleep.

  “How?” You inquire, and cautiously poke him. The boy bares his teeth and slaps your hand angrily.

  “I’m dead too, you god damned idiot. Where have you been? Why didn’t you show up at Derse? Do you know how angry the Omnipotent One is?”

  “You’re dead too? Who is the Omnipotent One? Where is Derse?” You shoot the questions at the boy faster than the bullet that killed you, and the boy angrily pushes you down. You are surprised when you fall, and you stare up at him with a deep frown. The boy scowls and crosses his arms.

  “It seems you have not been informed before your death. The reaper that killed you is going to get a real god damned mouthful!” The boy snaps, and begins to pace in front of you, “Okay, First, my name is Karkat Vantas, the reaper of blood. Yes, I am dead, and before you ask, yes I am like a grim reaper. Derse is a small city in the Realm of Reapers, and that is where I work. The Omnipotent One is the head of all reapers. He is a peace keeper and acts like a god, I guess. He knows everything, and he can be real fucking smug about it. Most call him Doc Scratch, which he doesn’t seem to mind; The Omnipotent One is just a respected title, you know?” You stare at Karkat as if he has grown three heads. You stand up slowly and push your shades higher up your nose. Karkat stops pacing and stares at you wearily while you circle him.

  “What are you doing?” Karkat finally snaps, and you shrug and stand before him.

  “I am supposed to have already been at Derse?” You ask instead, and Karkat gives you a serious nod.

  “Yes. You were supposed to have been there after your body was done away with, but you didn’t show up. Scratch had the entire city search for you in case you had gotten lost, but the bastard knew you were actually here. He sent me to collect your dumb ass.”

  “How was I supposed to get there?” You sound a bit whiny, and Karkat rolls his eyes.

  “The reaper who killed you was supposed to either put you to sleep so you could live out the afterlife in the dream bubbles, or if you were to become a reaper, he was supposed to give you a weapon so you could get to the city of Derse; which he apparently did not do.”

  “Apparently,” You agree with a nod, and Karkat rolls his eyes again.

  “Did you get a good look at who your reaper was? I need to chew him out for not helping your ignorant ass out of the Realm of the Living.”

  “Uh, he was super pale, creepily charming, and had a white and green suit,” Now it was Karkat’s turn to gawk at you before he angrily kicks your tombstone. You shout at him for it, but he was too busy screaming in another language at the sky. To your surprise, he whips out a pair of colorful sickles and slashes an ‘X’ in the air in front of you. Something seems to hit you in the chest and the air whooshes around you. Then, everything is incredibly still and you are staring into a broken red vortex.

  “What the fuck!” You bark, walking around the…whatever it is. It is like a sheet of paper that is as tall as you are, but much more dangerous and bizarre looking than any parchment you’ve seen. Karkat stares angrily at you and hisses.

  “Get in, I’ll explain later,” He grumbles, waving a sickle at you. You flinch away from the blade and Karkat sighs before depositing the blades in some weird card. Karkat grabs your arm and begins to shove you towards to opening of this thing. You protest and squirm, but he succeeds in shoving you into the vortex, which is the most dreadful thing you have ever been through. You feel like you had been ripped to shreds and forced into a tube before being reassembled. After you are ‘reassembled’, you fall to your knees on a purple paved street, but you pay no mind to the strangely colored road beneath you. Instead, you clutch your chest and cough and dry heave. Karkat finds you like this when he follows behind you, and he kicks your rump with the toe of his black sneaker.

  “Don’t be such a fucking a pussy,” He snaps at you. You cough a bit more before shakily raising up. You stare at him and then shriek in surprise. You scuttle back and stare at the boy before you, or, more like the boy who _wasn’t_ in front of you. The boy went from pale skin to a deep, hard grey. His brown hair had been replaced with black and these little candy corn colored nubs. The only thing that stayed the same are the little black freckles that are sprinkled across his nose.  

He also has some crazy ass black wings protruding from his back. There were huge and he seemed rather prideful of them. When he catches you staring, he flexes them and then quickly pushes them out so quickly that a few dark feathers fall around his feet. Then just as quickly as he showed them off, they were gone with a sickening, bone snapping crack. He rolls his shoulders and gives you a lopsided, pointy-toothed grin.

  “What, never seen an angel before?” He taunts, and you squint at him.

  “No angel I have ever heard of had nubby horns or grey skin,” You retort, and Karkat hisses at you.

  “Hey, they are not that nubby!” He defends, and you snort. The violent little fuck steps up to you and punches you in the stomach. You are left on the ground to dry heave again, swearing under your breath.

 “You are _definitely_ not an angel,” You moan, struggling to your feet again. Karkat gives you the ever charming middle finger before walking away. You assume you are supposed to follow him, so you do. Everything is purple. It is pretty and all, but you are kind of sick of the color. Even the god damned fruit is in varying shades of purple. Little men and women Karkat call Carapacians, run back and forth and around you excitedly, mumbling your name. One man (?) points to the missing person’s poster with your photo attached. He gives you an irritated glare and punches his fist into his palm. Karkat sniggers quietly in front of you.

            Karkat leads you to a huge purple version of Washington’s capitol building. Walking inside, you are not surprised to see that everything is purple-just like the rest of this stupid city. He leads you up countless stairs, down long ass corridors, and through random doors. After walking what felt like a life time, Karkat shows you to a huge violet, double door. He pushes it open and you follow him into a room with a high ceiling. Paintings hang on the walls in various shades of purple, and the ceiling is a gigantic glass dome. In the direct center is a long platform with three golden thrones. In these thrones sit three men. On the left is a man in a black hoodie; his hair is brown, his skin an orange color, and he has a bored scowl. He stares at you with equally bored white eyes, his chin propped in his hand and his elbow resting on the arm of his seat.

         On the right sits a beast of a man with vivid green skin and colorful robes. The flesh on his face is pulled taunt over his skull, making his face seem skeletal. He has angry red eyes and he pulls his lips back to show off all of his pointed teeth. He snarls angrily at you and you wonder if he is mad because you haven’t shown up for this…whatever it is. A meeting? Sure. Your eyes flicker to the man in the middle and squint at him. He has the body of a man, but there is a huge white orb where his head should be. You assume he is The Omnipotent One as he looks the most important of the trio.

  “God dammit, Scratch!” Karkat suddenly snaps, and you stare at him, almost wanting to apologize for his manners.

  “Oh, be nicer to me, Vantas,” The god warns, but his voice is sickly sweet and charming. You feel like you have heard his voice somewhere before but you shake off the feeling.

  “First you kill the God Damn kid without sticking around to explain _shit_ to him, and then you pretend to _not know who killed him_ and then _left_ him in that stupid grave yard! Seriously, what was the point in having the wild goose chase when he was in the same place as he always had been? And why did _you_ kill him? Why not just have one of your stupid fucking lackeys do it for you?” Karkat snaps, walking up to the thrones. You raise a brow at the God. He didn’t kill you, a man with a white suit killed you…the same one that the god is wearing? Surely not, the man that killed you had a face! He was just a normal man, right?

  “I see you don’t remember me, Dave,” The God says, completely ignoring the ranting teen in front of him.

  “With all due respect or whatever, should I?” You ask, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. The God chuckles and his head begins to morph. The ball shrinks and begins to melt away. A skull replaces the ball and before you can grasp what happened, a pair of vivid green eyes grow where the eye sockets are; meat and tendons grow like pink liquorish around the skull, and ropes of blood string around the skull. Finally-if that wasn’t a jaw-dropping enough of an experience-pale flesh grows over the meat and skull, finally revealing the God’s true form.

  “Uhg, that is just so fucking gross. Why do you do that?” Karkat snaps, shaking his head in shame.

  “Do you recognize me now, Dave?” The man giggles, seeming amused as your eyes bug out of your head…and then you collect yourself and do what Striders do best, you _stride_. You stride your skinny white ass up to that god damned freak and try to throw a punch at that stupid artificial face. You successfully bust the punk’s nose before Karkat is screaming at you and pulling you away.

  “What happened to the respect?” The god whines as he dabs a handkerchief on his bloody nose. The two men on either side of him are chuckling behind their hands, trying not to look at anyone in particular. Karkat pushes you to the floor and kicks your side.

  “You dumb ass, you can’t just hit people when you see fit.”

  “Well he didn’t kill _you_ for no apparent reason and then leave you by yourself in a fucking cemetery!” You snarl, stumbling to your feet. Karkat looks away from you, taking deep breaths.

  “Oh, but I did,” The god chuckles, and your gaze flips between the god and the teenager before you. He can’t be that old really, he looks maybe sixteen. Leaving an adult alone for days on end is shit, but you can’t do that to a kid. Jesus, you are an ass. Maybe you should apologize? Karkat sees your look of sympathy and scowls.

  “Oh, fuck off. It happened a long time ago,” He snaps, and he clears his throat before turning to the trio, “What do we do with him now? Is he to become a reaper or do I send him to the fucking bubbles?”

  “He will become a reaper. A Reaper of Time,” The orange dude speaks, and you startle at his voice. You raise a brow and look at Karkat, who seemed to have trouble believing this.

  “Do you guys know how hard that fucking job is-?”

  “And I suppose that _you_ do?” Orange guy snaps. Karkat glares at him, looking slightly miffed.

  “Gentlemen, please. We are aware of how this job is. It is not that it is difficult, it is that it’s _important_ ,” Doc Scratch amends, looking at you fondly. You huff at him but say nothing. The god dabs at his nose once more.

  “I just don’t think he can handle it! The last guy _died_ , Scratch. _Died_ ,” Karkat hisses, and you balk at him.

  “Whoa, I don’t want to die again. Just send me to those bubble things and-”

  “Nope, decision made!” Scratch cheers, throwing up his thin arms. You sigh and Karkat curses under his breath.

  “Well, who is going to train him? Where is he going to stay?” Karkat snaps, sounding defeated.

  “He won’t need much training. We will just get Lalonde and Egbert to help him out,” The god gives you a crinkly-eyed smile and tilts his head, “As for where he will stay? Why, with you of course!” You choke on your saliva and Karkat makes these really loud and uncomfortable noises.

  “What? Why with _me_?” Karkat complains, throwing up his hands in anger.

  “Because you both are pretty similar,” Orange guy says, grinning wickedly, “And because the Young Disciple has spoken.” Karkat looks dizzy and he shakes his head.

  “Oh, _hell_ no. Just because that stupid girl and her family have a god damn shipping wall doesn’t mean _shit!_ ” Karkat defends, and you just give everyone a confused scowl.

  “Shipping wall? Disciple?” You ask, and Karkat gives you a desperate look.

  “You aren’t gay, right?” That was an odd question.

  “Well, I mean, I have had quite a few gentleman friends…”

  “Oh my god,” Karkat whines, and shakes his head.

  “What does my sexuality have to do with this? Wait, by shipping wall, do you mean that we…?”

  “ _Never!_ ”

  “What, you have something against my Strider charm?”

  “That’s just it, _you have no charm_!”

  “Yeah, well tell that to my last boyfriend and he will disagree with you.”

  “Oh my god, this is fucking gross!” Karkat shouts, and gives the three men an angry expression. He lifts his middle finger in salute to them and grabs your arm to drag you out of the room.

  “Have fun, boys!” The God calls and you give him a thumbs up.

  “Not until the first date!” You reply suggestively, and the men laugh. You are promptly hit really hard in the face when you are back in the hallway.

**Some Time later== >**

 

            After another horrifying trip through that vortex thing, you stand on the front porch of Karkat’s home. It is a small white house in the middle of _butt fuck nowhere_. He tells you that you are currently in a dream bubble with him-a memory of his old home. He also tells you that there had been plenty of modern renovations so he could keep up with the times. You jokingly asked him what era he was from, expecting maybe the seventies or something. Well, you got the seventies, alright. The fucking _1670’s._

  “Mother of Christ, you’re old!” You complain, and he snarls at you.

  “I’m not _that_ old!”

 “Dude, it is fucking 2015, you are like, three hundred years older than me!”

  “So what? I haven’t aged a bit,” He snaps, and you take a chance to look him up and down. You smirk and pull your shades down to look him in the eye.

  “I’ll say,” You reply, and Karkat bares his teeth at you.

  “Dude, that’s fucking gross, you are such a damn pedophile! I’m sixteen!”

  “What-No! You are like three hundred!”

  “Oh my god, don’t check me out, Jegus that is fucking weird.”

  “Jegus?” Karkat leads you into the house and shuts the door behind him. He kicks off his sneakers and tells you to do the same so you don’t make the floors muddy. You are in what appears to be a living room. The walls are a dark brown and there is a single wicker chair with a matching love seat. There are huge red cushions in the love seat so you aren’t too worried about comfort when you sit down. In front of the loveseat is a glass coffee table and beyond that a small television set. It looks like it is never used, though, and when eyeing what is on the furthest side of the room, you can see why. Three huge bookshelves take up most of the wall and are filled to the fucking nines with thick books, small books, notebooks, text books-you name it, the kid has it.

  “You like to read?” You ask, not minding when your southern drawl drips into your words. Karkat looks at his books with a fond expression.

  “I love to read. I wasn’t able to do much reading when I was a kid…I guess dying has its perks,” Karkat murmurs. Then, he realizes how sappy that sounded and his face hardens. “You’re in my spot,” He snaps. You roll your eyes but scoot over. Karkat plops beside of you, and you both seem aware of how close the other is, because you both scoot as far as you can to the other end of the tiny couch. He is still rather close and he seems to avoid eye contact. You tilt your head in curiosity.

  “So who is the Disciple?” You ask, and Karkat stiffens.

  “Well, the actual Disciple is the ancestor of the Young Disciple. The line of disciples is full of very pure and loyal females. The youngest has a very special gift…She acts sort of like cupid and kind of, well, she, uh….”

  “Are you saying that she is a match maker?”

  “If it helps you sleep at night, then yes. She is a match maker.”

  “And it must mean serious shit? Do her matches always come true?” Karkat narrows his eyes and glares at the TV to avoid your hidden, scrutinizing eyes.

  “Yeah, it is something serious. It is a gift, I already told you…and inevitably, they do.”

  “So do we make-out now or-?”

  “You son of a flying fuck-faced bitch!” Karkat shouts, his face going red. He slaps you several times in the arm while you laugh. When he is done hitting your appendage, he stands up quickly.

  “There’s a fucking bed room for you down that hallway to the left. Keep going and you will find my room at the end of the hall. Don’t bother me unless it is absolutely-fucking-necessary. And don’t watch me through the fucking key hole, you sicko,” Karkat orders, and you just give him a merry grin. He stands up and walks down the hall to his room, leaving you on the couch.

  “Cute kid,” You murmur, and you search for a remote. There’s no way in hell you will sit here bored out of your mind.

**Briefly be Karkat== >**

 

            You shut your bedroom door and bite your lip. Jesus, that guy is fucking annoying. You slide down your bedroom door and sit on your carpet, shaking your head. He sure does make you weak in the knees. Honestly, when you first saw him in the grave yard, you didn’t think he was the guy you were looking for. He just looked way to alive for death, you know? Looked too…perfect? You shake your head again, as if getting rid of a bad though-which you are. You can’t _seriously_ believe the Young Disciple, can you? Oh, who are we kidding? You would have fallen head over hills for that douche muffin with or without cupid’s help. He is just so damn…angelic or something. And that is a weird thing for you to think about considering you are technically an angel yourself. Technically.

            He is much taller, more charming in that stupid douche-hipster way than you thought he would be. His eyes are the same red as yours, but his is much more vivid, much prettier. And his shades are so mysterious! Oh, blast it all, he is just like a guy from one of your romance novels. You sigh angrily and pull yourself off the floor. Why did you have to get stuck with an attractive, moronic dead guy? This is so fucking unfair. You grab a fresh pair of boxers and some clean sweat pants before slinking out of your room. The man is watching TV, it seems, so you quickly slip into the bathroom to take a shower. You have had a long day, and if that ass hole needs to take a piss he can shove it because you are not getting out under any circumstances. You are planning on taking the longest shower you ever had, and hopefully the endless hot water pressure will wash away these new thoughts of lust.

            What?! _Lust_? Oh, Jesus Christ, there _never_ were any thoughts of lust! Well, not until now…Oh god! Stop this insanity, will ya? You don’t know the guy, you can’t be thinking of him in any sort of position, even if that position includes him on his knees and-STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE. You nearly start crying from embarrassment as you turn on the hot water and flip the switch to turn on the shower. You turn the water as hot as you will be able to stand it, and quickly strip. You climb over the wall of the tub, pull the curtains, and immerse yourself under the shower head. Then, you carefully think only about each part of your body relaxing under the hot water, and _not_ about what your new “friend” could do to each part of your body. You curse loudly at the mental images that flood your think pan, and now you work harder to not think about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //*apoloetic bows here**apologetic bows there*I am so sorry if the first chapter didn't live up to your expections! I swear to do better! *cries*

**Author's Note:**

> //Yo' everyone. I am in the process of writing the next chapter as we *speak*. Remember to comment and kudos, because that gives me inspiration and motivation! I love you all my perfect purple bumblebees<3


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